


Spot

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Puppy Play, Sugar Daddy, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis has someone for unwinding.





	Spot

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The conference went smoothly enough, which is to say his father would be pleased if he were still around, but Noctis is as exhausted with that sort of function as he’s always been. It went three hours past the expected end, and as it was held an hour away from the Citadel, that sets Noctis back considerably. He makes an effort to remain polite even as he’s leaving—he’s a _king_ now, and he has responsibilities. Nevertheless, as soon as he’s safe within the tinted black windows of the Regalia, he lets his retainers hear his heavy sigh.

Gladiolus is already half asleep. He sits in the back with Noctis, not even bothering to read, only keeping his eyes open because he takes his job seriously. Noctis is just as drained but can’t seem to nod off, even though he’s usually one step away from narcolepsy. Alone in front, Ignis sits stoically behind the steering wheel. It’s beyond dark outside, but Insomnia’s large enough that it’s never _truly_ pitch black. The city’s bright nightlife illuminates the windows as Ignis pulls them out onto the freeway.

It doesn’t take long for Noctis to realize he’s not ready for sleep. He’s too strung out from the meeting, too tense from having to be on his toes with all the various politicians and councilors he would rather not look twice at. He needs to unwind. Even though it’s creeping up on one a.m., he shoots off a text: _Are you busy?_

It’s a Monday night, so he knows there are college classes in the morning. Still, his sugar baby answers: _For you? Never!_

Noctis snorts. Gladiolus glances over at him, but he offers no explanation. He does a few quick mental calculations, figuring out how far away he is and whether or not he can risk taking his paramour home to the Citadel. He’d probably better not, since it’ll involve smuggling him out early the next morning, and Noctis is never any use in the mornings. He now knows from experience that any cute young things not royally employed need to be excused from the Citadel with care or the press will have a field day. He finally decides: _I can be there in twenty. Can I stay the night?_

_Sure. But I’ve got Photography first thing tomorrow, so I can’t make you breakfast. :,(_

Noctis finds himself smiling fondly at the thought. He doesn’t _need_ a breakfast out—Ignis will feed him well enough when he gets home. And Ignis would probably wait in the underground parking lot too, so that Noctis didn’t have to stay the night at some random apartment building, but Noctis isn’t quite _that_ cruel. He answers, _Thanks_ , and throws in, _See you then, Pup._

He gets a cute emoticon of a dog back, then pockets his phone. Looking up again, he tells his driver, “I’d like to make a pit stop.” Ignis’ eyes flicker to his in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t ask what Noctis means specifically, but he’s never needed directions. He doesn’t scold Noctis for it either, which is an improvement—if Noctis had tried such a request in his twenties, he never would’ve heard the end of it.

He’s older and more burdened now. Ignis understands that. Ignis smoothly handles the ride while Noctis rests against the window in the backseat, never quite drifting off. He’s only become antsier by the time they finally pull into the parking lot of a mid-sized apartment building on the outskirts of the city. Gladiolus grunts, “Play safe,” which has Noctis groaning and punching his arm. Gladiolus snickers as Noctis climbs out.

“Thanks, Iggy. Night, guys.” 

Gladiolus nods. Ignis returns, “Good night, Your Majesty. I’ll return to pick you up at six thirty.”

That’s earlier than Noctis would like, but he still nods. He’ll likely just pass out again when he reaches the Citadel, but he’d like to catch at least a few hour’s sleep in a different bed tonight. As the Regalia pulls away, Noctis climbs the steps and lets himself into the lobby.

The building is deserted: one of the benefits to late night visits. On the third floor, he fishes his keys out of his pocket, using the little silver one that sits next to the Citadel’s master one. He slots it into the fourth door down, knowing that there’s no point knocking: dogs can’t use doors.

The light’s on inside, warm and cozy, just like he remembers. It’s much nicer than the old apartment, rented before Noctis’ royal funds were in the picture. He shuts and locks the door behind himself, shrugging out of his cloak and kicking out of his boots. He’s only just gotten his suit jacket off when he hears shuffling around the corner, and a handsome young man appears there, crawling forward on hands and knees. Noctis pauses to watch the lithe body make its way towards him. He can see every bit of it, ever last centimeter of skin exposed, save for a thin strip around the neck where the man’s collar snugly rests. Or rather, Noctis’ collar rests. He’s the one that bought it, and the silver pendant that dangles from the front bears his name. The man doesn’t stop until he’s right at Noctis’ feet, nuzzling eagerly into Noctis’ thigh, looking up at Noctis through pretty blue eyes and an enchanting pink smile. The gorgeous blond looks like he couldn’t be happier to have Noctis home. Noctis can feel all the tension in his chest immediately melting away.

He coos, “Good boy,” in greeting. Prompto smiles wider, his freckled cheeks even dimpling—he always seems to glow when Noctis praises him. Noctis does so as often as he can. Prompto deserves it. Prompto’s the sort of boy-toy that any king would pay a royal fortune for, which is saying something in Noctis’ case, because he never thought he’d want a sugar baby, of all things. Then he ran into a lovely little photographer with the pleasantness of a chocobo and the virility of a wildcat. Noctis has no regrets.

Noctis bends down to scratch behind Prompto’s ear—the real one, not the big, fluffy golden ones he has attached to his headband. A matching tail trails down behind him, stuffed into his plush rear via a large, round plug that Noctis has enjoyed shoving into Prompto’s pliant body on more than one occasion. Prompto moans low when Noctis pets him, even wriggling his hips to make his tail wag. It makes Noctis wish he had the energy to take Prompto on a proper walk, then bring him back to the kitchen for a bowl of water, then have him practice tricks in the living room. At the moment, Noctis just wants to cuddle something cute and sleep. Or maybe have a little doggy-style. Prompto always makes him want more than he intended to. 

With a contented sigh, he straightens up to pluck the leash off one of the pegs behind the door, the others laden with coats and bags. Prompto sits up proudly and tilts his head aside to make it easier for Noctis to affix the leash to his collar. Noctis can’t resist giving him one last pat and repeating, “Good boy, Prom.” Prompto smiles like a star and darts out to lick Noctis’ hand. 

Chuckling affectionately, Noctis gives the leash a little tug. The he heads off for the bedroom, his precious puppy fast behind him.


End file.
